


Turn the Noose of War

by NamelessDragon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Space Road Trip Buddies, Captivity, Gore, Graphic Description of Injuries, Not Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Sanctuary nastiness, Suicidal Ideation, Torture, Uneasy Allies, not avengers (2012) compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-11-17 14:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18100502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelessDragon/pseuds/NamelessDragon
Summary: In 1945, Steve crashes into the Atlantic Ocean. Almost seventy years later, he wakes up a captive in outer space.Luckily, a fellow prisoner might be willing to lend a hand with escape.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I have NO idea what I'm doing. This was spurred by a ficlet prompt from [@portraitoftheoddity](https://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/) (For Loki & Steve, “If I go down now, I’m not getting back up.”) - and, as you can see - it's not a ficlet. Nevertheless, it should be short, maybe 2-3 chapters. I wrote most of it while I had insomnia from the flu.
> 
> This chapter is Steve's POV, the next will be Loki's. Please HEED THE TAGS.
> 
> Fair warning that I am not sure when it will be next updated, it'll just depend on when I write it.

_"Where is the stone?"_

_Light. His joints screamed in desperation for relief, worse than when he'd had rheumatic fever, piercing and aching in waves that burned him up from the inside. He struggled to keep quiet, to breathe through the creeping agony._

_He wasn't successful._

_"Hoarding your words will avail you little. As I've said, we found traces of the stone's energy around your discovered location."_

_The pain eased. He tasted blood from where he'd bitten into his tongue. Footsteps circled him in a calm, purposeful stride._

_"You have been granted the chance for something greater. You should take comfort. We can make you better."_

_"I'm pretty happy with what I have, thanks."_

_Needles twisted. He struggled to move, to pull free, low grunts pressing to the inside of his throat._

_The voice around him began to warp, slide into a German accent. Johann Schmidt came to a stop in front of him, face of crimson grinning like a death's-head. "You think you know what pain is, but I will show you the glory of true suffering."_

_Anguish became molten fire, writhing down to his bones, obliterating every thought._

_Someone was screaming._

Steve jerked awake from one nightmare into another. He scrambled up to his feet, checking for hostiles, remaining tense and wary even when he found none present. His body regenerated quickly from whatever they were doing to him, but it remembered the pain, enough for his dreams to combine his current reality with what it had been before he'd slammed the jet into ice.

His cell was cold, and the walls were tall and sharp with triangular columns of metal. There was a distant rumble - engines, or maybe a host of soldiers on the move. 

He'd been here for...he wasn't sure how long it had been. He thought it had to have been weeks, but he'd spent a lot of that time unconscious.

Some kind of unidentifiable bowl of the usual gruel was near the door, barely discernible in the low light - and if the food they gave him was unappetizing, it at least hadn't made him sick yet. Though he wasn't sure if that was because of the serum combating most toxins before they could even begin to take hold. 

He didn't know how he'd gotten here. One minute, he'd been slamming the Valkyrie down into the Atlantic Ocean, and next he'd woken up a prisoner. On a spaceship. With full-blown aliens.

And they wanted the Cube.

It hadn't taken long for him to realize that they were the type of people that had to be kept from getting their hands on it at all costs.

When they'd first found him, they'd operated under the impression that he was a lot more fragile than he actually was. They'd learned otherwise _very_ quickly. He'd taken out his guards - reptilian things with razor teeth and metal molded into their bodies called Chitauri - and escaped through the ship. 

He remembered the confusion and awe as he'd come to a standstill at an expanse of huge windows displaying an asteroid field and endless space. More of the scaly cybernetic aliens had surrounded him in his hesitation, overwhelming him until he'd been taken down. There were others, too - aliens of varying humanoid types that spoke English. They were less in number, but a lot stronger than the Chitauri that patrolled the halls with armor fused to their flesh.

He didn't have a plan just yet. But with each interrogation he was able to gather a little more information. 

He wandered cautiously over to the door, listening for the familiar hiss and click that would signal its opening. The bowl they delivered with his food was kept in a container so flimsy that it would saturate with moisture and collapse if he left it for too long. He slurped in a mouthful and swallowed quickly, trying not to let it sit on his tongue. He didn't think he'd ever experience a food that actually managed to make him miss K rations, but here he was. 

He threw the bowl aside when he was done, soon to dissolve into a floor caked with filth. His skin itched from dirt and grime, and the stain of leftover blood, but the war had already made that feeling an old friend. 

He moved himself into his daily session of handstand push-ups against the wall. The serum would keep him in top shape no matter what, but it was something to do beyond wait for the next interrogation. His neck tingled every time he heard footsteps pass his door, but they never came for him this soon in what he'd begun to label as morning.

He was going to find a way out.

\------------

His cell door did open eventually. He ignored the quickened pound of his heart as he stood ready to defend against the shock weapons they liked to use to subdue him before he was moved to the interrogation room.

But this time, they weren't there to take him out. 

They were bringing someone else _in_. 

An alien woman with green skin that he hadn't seen yet entered, face stoic and hair-tips melting into bright red. She didn't spare him a glance as she roughly hefted in a body that crumpled like a deck of cards and collapsed into the center of the cell on hands and knees. Pale fingers stretched against the metal ground, stained bloody and twisted.

"Prove yourself to him, and you can have your hands," the woman said. She flickered her eyes up to Steve, and then she was gone.

Steve's brain was minutely torn between staying wary of the new arrival and noting the pained curve to the spindly body, the tangled black hair that hung greasy like oil. It had to be another prisoner.

The body began to move, pushing itself up on hands that were swollen and bruised to a grotesque level. It's breathing hitched but it didn't make a sound, and when it raised its head so Steve could finally see a face he realized why.

Something was in its mouth - a horrific contraption of metal that spread its jaw wide, dozens of metal points the size of fish hooks erupting outwards through the cheeks. Blood drenched the lower half of the person's face, saturating his neck and the flimsy rags that clung to a body that had obviously been forced through stringent deprivation and torture. 

Steve fought down his nausea. Sunken eyes were watching him, broken and discolored hands pulled in close to a shuddering frame.

"Is there any way for me to help with that?" Steve asked.

There was a big protrusion at the front of the torturous bridle, like a key in a lock. Steve took a look at the man's hands and realized that they were crushed beyond any possible dexterity.

The man didn't respond, just watched him with breaths that quaked in and out, loud and echoing off the cell walls.

Steve took a step forward, and another. Owlish eyes followed him, lips peeling back over bloodied gums and teeth that strained against the press of the device. The movement sent several streams of fresh blood down the gaunt face.

Steve crouched down, trying to keep his gorge down. He indicated the key-like protrusion. "Does this get it out?"

The man stared at him. Then he nodded, but it was so small and careful that it might have just been a twitch.

The metal was cool under his hand. Steve grasped the key-like attachment with his right hand and steadied it with his left. He tried not to stare directly at the gore running down the man's face. He was obviously another alien, and a sturdy one; a normal human couldn't have lost this much blood and be so cognizant.

There was resistance as he tried to turn it. A whine, high and muffled, scraped up behind the bridle. Steve braced himself, hoping that the rotating mechanical applications of outer space worked like they did on Earth. Everyone he'd met so far seemed to have the basic structure of arms and hands, at least.

He wrenched the protrusion counter-clockwise.

There was a loud clacking noise and a scream ripped through the man's throat as the hooks pulled back in through his cheeks and the metal in his mouth twisted smaller around the key until it became a palm-sized orb that dropped to the cell floor.

"Oh," the man breathed, hunched over. "That's...better. Thank you." His voice was slurred, almost completely garbled from his torn and swollen tongue. The holes in his face looked small now that the device had been removed, like a spider with blades for legs had tried to explode out of his mouth.

The prisoner swayed and began to fall forward, the ruins of his hands outstretched to catch himself. Steve quickly caught him before he had to put weight on broken fingers. Bony limbs dug into his palms, the scent of blood overpowering the small space of his cell.

"Can you tell me where we are?" Steve asked.

"Hell," the man responded, and then shocked Steve with his strength and speed as a broken hand came for his forehead.

The world fell away and lurched through him, flashes of the fight on the Valkyrie, Schmidt rushing for the fallen Cube and disappearing in a beam of light through space, Peggy's face in the locket and her voice echoing in his ears as he brought the jet down.

Steve broke away and stumbled back, the wall behind him the only thing keeping him from hitting the ground. Without support the man had fallen to the floor, cradling his hands close, moaning and eyes streaming.

Steve caught his breath. "What did you do?"

"Looked into your memories," the man panted. His brow furrowed, the drunken quality to his voice growing with every second. "You are...from Midgard. Earth."

Steve's blood went cold. If the aliens had a mindreader, all knowledge of the Cube, the American and Ally military secrets, anything that was in his head, they could just take. 

His anger rose, tempered only by the condition of the other prisoner and the fact that he looked about three seconds from passing out on the floor. Steve balled his fists and took a step forward, and the emaciated body in front of him braced itself but didn't move beyond that. He really didn't think it could.

 _Why are you helping them,_ Steve wanted to demand, but the fact was painfully obvious in the blood that drenched the stone beneath them, the mangled face and limbs. 

"Where are we," he asked again instead. "What do they want with the Cube?"

The body on the ground shifted, eyes blinking rapidly. "You should convince them to kill you, if you can," the prisoner said, voice flat. "They are...not set on anything more than gathering information from you as of yet. Escape life before they decide otherwise. Give them what they want, and then perish."

"That's not going to happen," Steve said. 

Before they could speak further, the cell door opened again. Steve tensed as the green woman stepped in and leveled one of the shock sticks in his direction. "Stay where you are," she ordered.

Steve stiffened, frustration filling him at his helplessness. 

Assured of his compliance, the Chitauri guards wandered in, gripping the other prisoner roughly under his arms and ignoring his moan of pain as they dragged him out in a smear of blood.

The green-skinned woman glanced at the orb on the ground. "You took it out."

"Of course I did," Steve said, and then launched himself forward, bashing the shock weapon out of her her grasp and taking it for himself before she could react. She responded by slamming a fist to his chest that sent him flying back into the wall. When he landed, he raised the shock stick only to find a blade pressed into his throat.

"Drop it," she ordered. 

Steve stared back angrily. Maybe the other prisoner had been right; he should just let her kill him to keep them from getting any more information. But his captors already had what they'd been looking for, at least as soon as the mindreader talked. If they went for the Cube...

He had to stay alive at all costs. He had to escape, and get back to Earth somehow. Warn them what was coming.

He dropped the stick. She kicked it away, keeping the sword at his neck, then backed away and grabbed it and the orb from the center of the cell. 

"It will hurt more when it has to go back in," she said, gazing at the blood-stained metal on her hand. "This isn't a place for kindness. You can't trust that people will do things for you; you can only trust that they'll do them for themselves."

The doors shut. Steve was alone.

\------------

The next time the doors opened, he was electrocuted into submission and taken to the interrogation chamber.

His usual tormenter rounded him, voice cloying and fingers pressed together. "Where is the stone?"

Steve stayed quiet, but internally his thoughts raced. They didn't know yet? 

He grimaced and groaned as needles pierced his skin.

"I grow tired of your impudence. Would it not be simpler to give in? You must be a great warrior among your kind. You could join us, and help us spread the glory of our message across the universe."

Is that what they were doing? Not just torturing people for information, but recruitment?

Was that what was happening to the mindreader?

"I'll pass," Steve ground out.

He screamed more for that session than he had in any of the ones previous. 

When he was dragged back to the cell, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, consciousness fled as soon as he hit the floor.

\------------

The new day started. At least, he thought it did. Mornings were when he received his ration of alien gruel. He sucked it down, hating the bitterness that rushed in and sloshed over his tongue as he forced himself to swallow it all without stopping. He needed to keep his strength up if he was going to have any chance of escape.

When the doors opened again, the green woman was back. So was the other prisoner.

Steve clenched his jaw as she threw the body roughly forward again, shutting them in together.

The device was back in his mouth, new blood pouring down his chin from the cruel spines. In addition to his hands, his forearms were now broken, and lash and burn marks decorated his back through torn clothes.

Steve didn't close the space between them, remembering the hand on his forehead, the green woman's words about his fellow prisoner's motivations for practical self-survival. 

Not that he couldn't see why acting like that would be appealing. Steve was bruised, and his nightmares were going to follow him until he was dead, but this man...it was like they were trying to literally tear him apart.

Instead of rising, the man curled on his side, trying to angle his head so the least amount of barbs stabbing through his face touched the ground. He didn't look at Steve - shallow, wheezing breaths jerking the thin chest, like a frightened bird. 

Steve tried to hold out, but a few minutes later he exhaled loudly, internally wincing. He couldn't leave him like that.

He cautiously stepped forward, ready to defend himself against another attack. "I'd really like to get that off of you," he said. "And I'd like to do it without you diving into my brain again."

The man blinked up at him through eyelashes clumped together by moisture. He didn't give any indication that he'd understood.

Steve sighed, and crouched, reaching out again for the key at the front. There was a twist, a cry of pain, and then the device was once more a harmless-looking sphere on the cell floor. The man writhed painfully in its absence, brow drawn tight as blood bubbled out of the holes in his cheeks. His jaw was loose, his mouth unable to close, a line of blood-saturated saliva running from his lip to the floor.

"Your jaw is dislocated," Steve said, heart going quicker at the thought of causing the man added distress. "Let me-"

The man made a noise of audible protest and shrunk back the half centimeter he could manage.

Steve winced at the reaction. "Trust me, it'll feel a lot better when it's back in."

This time when he went in with his hands, the man was still. He shut his eyes as Steve gripped his face, moving his thumbs over to the back molars and wrapping his fingers around the underside of his jaw. He felt for the joint and maneuvered until it popped back in.

The body arched with a strained noise and then fell limp. Steve instinctively backed off, aware that with the lessening of pain there'd be a greater chance of a successful attack on his person.

He gave him a few minutes to recover, for the bleeding to slow.

"You didn't tell them what you saw in my head," Steve said.

The man spoke with difficulty through a mouthful of blood. "No."

"Why not?"

There was a series of breaths, a staccato laugh that ended in a grimace and gasp. "I had considered...the proposal of a...mutually beneficial alliance."

Steve wanted to believe him; the odds of escape would be a lot higher with someone on his side. But he knew enough to be cautious. "And how am I supposed to know if you're not just doing this so you can get more information out of my head before you give it to them?"

"You do not," the man said bluntly, then had to stop and breathe for a few moments, hands instinctively going to his face before he pulled them back down. "But it would appear that...neither of us...have anyone else."

Steve couldn't disagree. "Can I get a name, at least?"

"Loki," the man answered. A shoulder twitched. "Though, quite a few in number among our hosts have taken to calling me...'meat puppet.'"

The humor took Steve aback. "I think I'll stick with Loki," he said dryly. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"Steve Rogers," Loki repeated, the name distorted in his damaged mouth. "There is a further problem of which you do not appear to be aware."

Steve tensed in resignation, ready to deal with whatever new piece of world-altering news was about to be presented to him. He firmed his voice. "What kind of problem?"

"Your last waking moment before you came to this place...was seventy years ago."

Before Steve could respond, the cell door opened and the Chitauri stepped inside. Loki tensed, eyes growing wide as his breathing quickened. He stared at Steve hopelessly as hands jerked him up and dragged him out.

The green-skinned woman was back. She looked at Steve in calculation, confusion slowly nestling a furrow between her brows. 

A cold rage was beginning to overtake him. "You know, hurting him even more isn't going to help him do what you want," he said.

She stepped into the cell and grabbed the orb off the floor. "Your forehead doesn't have any new blood," she noted, then turned and walked out.

It took Steve a minute to realize that she knew that Loki hadn't even attempted to look into his mind this time.

\------------

When Steve was taken for his daily interrogation, he found himself left suspended and untouched. One of the Chitauri guarded him, still as stone, but his tormenter never appeared.

Then he heard the muffled screams in the distance, agonized howling that echoed through the ship. He could barely recognize the voice through the animal pain that laced it, but he knew it was Loki.

It seemed like hours before the screams died down.

An indeterminable amount of time after that, a shock weapon was discharged against him. He was pulled back to his cell.

\------------

The next day, an unconscious mess of flayed skin and blood was thrown onto the floor in front of him, gleaming wet muscle and bone expanding with shallow breaths.

Steve waited for the guards to shut the door, then rushed to the corner to vomit. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as he looked back.

 _First thing's first,_ he thought. He released the torture device from Loki's mouth, and popped his jaw back in, angling his head so he wouldn't choke on his own blood.

 _He's not even awake,_ Steve thought. _How the hell do they expect him to do what they want if he's out cold?_ Or maybe that was the point. Give him an impossible task so they could just torture him even more. But there had to be a limit to what they could do, even to someone that strong.

Steve waited beside Loki in tense silence, his nose long since deadened to the fetid odors. Minutes passed, but then the body in front of him woke with a low noise of pain, writhing in an attempt to find a comfortable position before giving up with a jagged breath.

"Hey," Steve said, stomach churning, and Loki snarled and flinched, swollen limbs coming up in feeble defense. Steve raised his hands to show he meant no harm. 

It took a moment for the wildness to finally leave Loki's eyes. He slumped, exhaustion pulling at the waxy skin of his face. "Steve Rogers," he said, voice tight, "you...appear...well rested."

The way he said the words made Steve realize. "You kept them off of me."

"The Maw...has a temper." He rolled his head so he was looking at Steve more directly. "Is your distrust in me...at least somewhat abated? Or would you prefer more...tokens."

"That won't be necessary," Steve said, not able to imagine the kind of condition Loki would end up in if their captors ended up angry with him again. If he would even survive it. "You told me the last time I was awake was seventy years ago."

"Yes."

"That's not possible."

"You were frozen," Loki said. "Perfectly preserved and adrift. Even in ice...your cells resisted permanent damage."

"I dropped into the Atlantic Ocean, and you're telling me that not only did I end up in space, but it's actually the future."

"The stone...what you call the Cube, created a blast when you applied force. You were in the direct vicinity. It's function is to create far-reaching portals. It tagged you...sought you out from miles away." He paused. "There is a high probability its location was discovered in the interim."

"You're saying my information's out of date."

"It could...potentially still have its use." Loki gave a small smirk through torn lips. "I happen...to have some familiarity with how to unlock such a portal. Our captors suspect, but they have not managed to pry that particular bit of knowledge from me just yet. Wherever your Cube is now...if I can gather enough magic, we will be transported to it."

"And if it's still underwater?"

"Then I suppose we will have to swim."

Steve sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

"I have stolen a series of access codes," Loki said, confidence in his strained voice. "And I know the layout of the ship. But the tendons in my legs are kept severed. I am not precisely mobile, as you would expect."

"You can't use your magic from here."

"No," Loki's lips turned up fully in the bitter farce of a smile. "Most of it is being currently expended for healing. I will need...time for recovery. At least a few days. Preferably a week."

That was an added complication. "That mind thing...can you do it to anyone?"

"I require physical contact. And I am particularly drained, at the moment."

"What about the woman with the green skin?"

Loki laughed, an expression of agonized regret pinching his face immediately after. "The Daughter of Thanos? Her mind would be...especially impenetrable."

"Can you do it?"

Loki went quiet with thought. "Perhaps," he eventually said. "But I would only be able to distract her for a few seconds. And I...would not be of use for much else after."

Steve nodded, a thrill moving through him at the prospect of actually doing something besides waiting for the next round of torture. "That'll have to be good enough."

\------------

Steve crouched with his arms braced under Loki, trying to ignore the texture of exposed muscle against his skin. Loki shook in his grasp, breathing in uneven gasps of agony, but he'd forced himself completely limp as they waited for their guards to return.

The door opened, but it wasn't the green-skinned woman. It was a woman with blue skin and metal bracketed around black eyes. She latched them onto Loki immediately.

"Hand over the meat puppet," she ordered, sounding bored.

Steve felt Loki begin to shake harder against him. "All yours," he said, and launched Loki towards her at full strength.

Loki brought a broken hand to her forehead and they both went down screaming. Steve was up and punching out the Chitauri before they could fire on Loki, and when he turned back Loki had somehow awkwardly pulled free a shock stick from the woman's belt and activated it, pressing it against her neck and leaving it there as she convulsed.

He looked up at Steve with an expression of self-satisfaction, then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the side, limp.

"Shit." Steve raised him in his arms and began to race down the halls, following Loki's previously given directions without hesitation, firing on enemies as soon as they rounded corners.

Thankfully, Loki came around to provide help just as Steve was unsuccessfully trying to figure out the access code to the lower decks.

"The hangar is not far," Loki said as they rushed through the opened doors. "Hurry. The Chitauri are neurally linked. They will swarm."

"Yeah, I've experienced that," Steve said, pumping his legs faster.

He saw the hangar ahead, with dozens of ships. But before they entered it something huge and metal slammed into Steve's back and sent him falling forward, the gun flying from his grasp. He just managed to turn himself so he landed on his shoulder instead of on Loki, coming back up into a crouch as the green-skinned woman stepped out into the archway into the hangar.

"Damn," Loki swore, then moaned in pain. Something wet was sliding over Steve's forearm.

"Ah, Gamora," said a voice behind them. Steve's tormenter, the one Loki had called the Maw, sending Steve's nerves crawling harder with every syllable. "Your timing is impeccable."

Loki was hyperventilating in Steve's arms, eyes rolling wildly in feral terror. "No," he loudly snarled. "You will not have me again, _you will not-_ "

"Asgardian," the Maw said, sounding vaguely disappointed. "This is why your tongue requires hobbling. Come now, soon the Other will arrive to soothe your shattered mind. We still have use for you both. Your lives belong to Thanos."

Steve stared between their enemies with a sinking feeling. The green-skinned woman - Gamora - approached them with her sword at the ready, and the Maw stepped leisurely forward. Steve could hear the screeching of Chitauri soldiers in the distance.

"Use me," Loki said, shuddering in his arms. "Guard against her weapon."

Steve shook his head. "She could kill you."

"Death would be a mercy," Loki murmured.

"Not an option," Steve said. He reached into his pocket and palmed the orb.

Loki's voice grew desperate. "You cannot win hand to hand against the Maw. His telekinetic skill is unparalleled. This is our _only_ option."

As if to emphasize Loki's words, the Maw pulled apart the walls around himself, levitating the metal in preparation to attack.

Steve bolted in the opposite direction. He crossed the distance to their other enemy in three long strides and then threw Loki past her to safety, unlocking the orb in his hand to the highest setting and throwing the resulting expansion of serrated spikes at her face. She knocked it aside with her sword and Steve went for the opening to punch her in the shortribs - she bent double with a cry before kicking him back into the wall. Metal peeled and curled around Steve and kept him pinned. He strained against it but it wouldn't budge. 

The spiked orb came to hover in front of his face. "Perhaps you would prefer to wear this next," the Maw said, tightening the metal around Steve with a gesture until he could barely take in a full breath. "Since you prefer to speak nothing of importance. If the Asgardian does not draw the information from your mind, you can be certain the Other will."

The Maw suddenly tensed up, trembling as visible shocks raced up and down his frame. He collapsed limply to the ground, limbs akimbo, unsconscious.

The metal fell from Steve's body with a loud clatter, but Gamora stepped forward and directed her sword at his chest before he could move. "Do you know where the Tesseract is?" 

Steve didn't answer.

"Tell me," she said, eyes intense. "Tell me you know the location!"

"I don't," he lied. "I don't know anything about it."

The smile she gave him in response was scornful. She withdrew her weapon and indicated the hangar with a jerk of her head before sprinting towards a ship. "Come on," she called. "Before the Chitauri arrive. Grab the Asgardian."

Steve raced after her, pausing to pick up Loki, who was insensate from the rough handling he'd experienced. He moaned weakly as he was jostled on the run up to the ship, Steve breathing out low apologies as he moved.

Gamora was at the cockpit onboard and fully starting the ship by the time he found a spot for Loki to be set down, propped and carefully placed into a seatbelt made out of some kind of odd rubber. He rushed to the front of the ship to watch as she began to pull them around and signal the doors to the hallway to close before the side of the hangar bay opened and they launched out in a streak through the asteroid field.

\------------

When they were in the clear, Gamora spoke in irritation. "Fools. What kind of witless escape attempt was that?"

Steve was carefully checking over Loki in the back of the cabin, loosening the seatbelt so it wouldn't cage his injured body. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Your compassion is misplaced," she asserted. "If the Asgardian hadn't needed you he would have sold you out as soon as look at you."

"His name is Loki," Steve said, coming back to the front of the ship. "And it seems like I need him just as much as he needs me. He says he can open a portal to get me back home."

Gamora stared down at the flight controls. "Take these," she said, and rose from her seat.

Steve quickly replaced her hands with his own. They were beyond the asteroid field and moving fast, but there were nothing but stars in sight. He swallowed in awe and more than a swirl of nervousness.

There was a loud smack behind him and a cry. Steve gave a startled jerk.

Gamora spoke angrily. "Do you really know how to open a portal to the Tesseract? Or are you deceiving him?"

Steve took his hands off the controls and hurried over, bodily pushing Gamora away from Loki, who was pressing his lips into the crook of his arm. "Hey. Back off."

"He's a liar," she said, gesturing with her sword. "He would do anything to save his own skin."

Steve stood firm. "Well he saved mine." _While your people took him apart,_ he didn't add.

Loki licked blood from his lips, awareness returning to his expression as he moved out of his protective hunch. He cradled his ruined hands in his lap, and Steve thought with some dread that the bones were going to have to be reset. 

"She is right," Loki admitted, twisting his lips. "I cannot do it."

Steve felt his stomach drop.

"To control the Cube," Loki continued, "what she calls the Tesseract, would require the bolstering of magic from another device to reach far across the galaxy." Loki gave a smirk stained with red, the wounds in his mouth and cheeks broken freshly open again from Gamora's blow. "Sanctuary's soon-to-be visitor...would have carried it with him."

Gamora growled and stomped over to the cockpit, sitting down and retaking control with no small amount of ire.

"Can we get to the device?" Steve asked, his thoughts racing in denial.

Loki spat blood onto the floor. "At best, such a venture would be...a death trap. And at worst, we risk being taken alive."

"I can't leave my planet open to invasion," Steve said.

"What planet?" Gamora asked. 

"Earth," Steve responded.

"Earth," she repeated, and then realization lit her eyes. "You mean Terra."

"You know where it is."

"Far." She shook her head. "This ship was not made for speed. Even using jump points, it would take years to get there."

"A timeframe in which they certainly will have found another able user for the device," Loki said. "I am afraid your planet is doomed."

The way Loki said the words sparked an inkling. Steve turned around. "You knew about Earth before you pulled any information from my head," he said. "Enough to know the difference in years. I'm assuming B.C. and A.D. aren't exactly the standard measurements of time for the alien calendar."

Loki dipped his head, managing to look unimpressed even as he shook with exhaustion. "Is there a point you would wish to make, Steve Rogers?"

"You've been to Earth. Recently."

Loki tightened his lips, his eyes widening. He suddenly had the bearing of a trapped animal, albeit one that had already been savaged by a predator and was facing either a swift end or a slow bleeding out.

At the cockpit, Gamora had turned her head to listen.

Steve folded his arms. "So how did you get all the way out here so quickly?"

Loki's visible fear increased, and then abruptly took a dive. His gaze was suddenly far away. "I fell," he answered, voice faint.

"From Earth?" Steve pressed.

"Not from Earth," Loki said, voice heated. 

"Asgard," Gamora answered. She turned around more fully. "You _fell_ all the way through the Void, from Asgard. And you survived."

Loki stared at her with a meanness in his eyes. "It is what made my capture so appealing, to your father."

Gamora stiffened. "He's not my father."

Steve stepped closer to Loki, drawing his attention to intervene in the developing argument. "Where's the Void?"

Loki was silent. The trapped look made a reappearance.

Steve didn't let up. "If you fell through it, maybe we can go back up it."

"I do not believe you are completely aware of how wormholes work," Loki said, voice suddenly low with warning.

"It's a door in space," Steve said with a shrug.

"Chitauri ships are strong," Gamora said. "It would probably survive the journey."

Loki's shoulders were beginning to heave in agitation. "I will not go."

"You said you would help me get back to Earth," Steve said. "Now there's a chance to keep your word."

Loki hissed. " _I will not_... _go._ " His eyes darted to Gamora. "How can you be so certain that this was not her plan all along, to aid us in our escape so she could find the Tesseract herself?"

"You said they'd find it without our help," Steve said.

"But the sooner, the more glory given to the one who locates it." Loki's eyes were round with wildness. "Thanos would be...so pleased, with whomever would deliver him such a gift."

"He can't have it," Gamora said adamantly. "If he gets his hands on that much power..."

"Yet you tortured me at his command for it," Loki said, lips peeled back. "His _mercy_ for having saved my life. Why pretend now that you are anything but his dog?"

Gamora rose back to her feet, voice shaking. "I hate him," she said vehemently. "More than anything. And I will be glad to never look upon his face ever again."

Loki huffed out a noise of derision. "So not only are you a sadist, but you lack any semblance of loyalty. A poor ally if ever there was one."

This was getting out of hand. Steve stepped between them as Gamora went for her sword again. "All right, stop. We have to work together if we're going to have a chance of doing this." He stared Loki down. "If you help us to Asgard, do they have ways of getting us to Earth?"

"They have a bridge," Gamora answered, looking back at Loki defiantly when he shot her an outraged glare. "It can transport us to any of the nine neighboring spiral galaxies. Earth is in one of them."

"Then we can leave you the ship," Steve said to Loki. "Once you heal, you drop us off, and you don't have to follow us beyond that."

Loki jerked in surprise. "Once I..." He laughed, bitter and pained. "You fail to see - her father had planned to allow me full healing only when I agreed to take the scepter without question, after my will was bent to their liking. Without the power of it speeding my recovery, my current... _uselessness_ , may extend for years."

"But you said..." Steve broke off with a frown at Loki's raised eyebrow. "How about this - you don't lie to me anymore when it comes to your physical health. That way there'll be a better chance of me actually helping you."

"Then here is some honesty," Loki said. "Asgard does not know you. And they will imprison _her_ on sight."

"Is that what you're scared they'll do to you?" Steve asked. "We just escaped interrogation, brainwashing and possible death, but you're acting like the place that's supposed to be your home will be even worse."

Loki went quiet, his eyes glittering. "My heritage is not that of Asgard. Their king took me, as a babe during war, from a temple in Jotunheim." He hissed. "I only just discovered my true lineage, and it is of a race of monsters long-hated by Asgard. The Golden Realm is not my home. I have no home. And I have nowhere to go."

"You can come to Earth," Steve suggested. 

Loki's eye twitched. "It would not be so simple."

"Why not? You look human."

"You _do not understand._ When I fell, I was...engaged in battle with the crown prince. Asgard will not forgive that so easily." There was a plaintive edge in his voice, like he was expecting to be forced into coming anyway. 

If Steve _had_ forced him, there would be nothing Loki could physically do to stop him.

"Then I'll go alone," Steve allowed, still feeling like Loki wasn't telling the whole truth. "But if you change your mind, the offer is open."

\------------

There was food on the ship, as it turned out, but it was apparently incredibly acidic and full of drugs meant to enhance the combat of the Chitauri. Steve decided to pass rather than test the limits of the serum.

Even though she still looked like she wanted very much to run him through with her sword, Gamora had insisted on finding somewhere to stop for food and medical supplies for Loki before they sought out the Void. The nearest planet for that was hours away. 

Loki had fallen unconscious, his starved body limp against hard metal. Now that the speedy recovery fact had been debunked, Steve wondered if any of the damage he had suffered would even be permanent. He couldn't see how someone could ever come back completely from what Loki had suffered. 

He sat beside Gamora at the cockpit and stared out at the stars as the ship propelled them forward. If Bucky had still been alive, he would have been riveted at the story this was going to make - spaceships and aliens and technology far beyond that of Earth. Peggy would have smiled and nodded.

They both would have thought he was crazy.

He swallowed against the homesick feeling that lodged in his throat.

Seventy years. What a damn joke that was going to be, for him to escape detainment and torture of enhanced aliens and travel all the way back across the universe to his home, only to find out that everyone he might have known had already died of old age. 

He glanced at Gamora. She was quiet, staring forward, lost in her own thoughts. "Were you there when they found me?" 

"No," she said. "The Other has a stone within the scepter. It sensed you adrift in space when you neared Sanctuary. That's how they knew you had been in proximity the Tesseract."

Steve tensed. "So how do we know they're not going to find me now?"

"Because the signature was faint, and I know what I am doing," she said. "And I would sooner die than go back."

He stared thoughtfully at her outfit, armored leather and an assortment of weapons attached to her person. "You're a soldier."

"I'm an assassin," she corrected, defensive and angry. "Known mostly as the deadliest woman in the whole galaxy."

"Then I guess it's good that you're on our side," Steve said.

She looked like she was about to protest, say something scathing in response. But then her face smoothed out in vague surprise. "You should rest."

Steve gazed around the ship interior. "Are there beds on this thing?"

"There are pods that would inject Chitauri stimulants into you as soon as you woke," she said, perfectly serious.

Steve grimaced. Just the thought of needles sent his muscles into a light spasm. "I think I'm good."

They went back to silence, the bleak quiet of space again penetrating into the ship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more part to this story, from Gamora's point of view. (Not sure when it will be posted!) I will probably make this into a series, but it will not be a priority in writing just now.
> 
> Descriptions of torture, pain and suffering herein.

"Asgardian, it has come to my attention that you spoke words of insult to my daughter Gamora."

A shadow fell. Dread stole Loki's breath, made him curl tight, like a child trying to ward off the dark. Pulses of brutal agony screamed through his hands, his legs, amplified by every movement and the weight of his own body. He wished for endless oblivion, felt sick with despairing desire and the knowledge that it would never be granted.

 _This is it, this is your penance, your judgment for your very existence, for being_ wrong. _Your thoughts, your intentions, your true form - monstrous all. Perhaps you are already dead, and this is the place to which all monsters are damned._

_It will never end, so why do you fight?_

A hand pressed against his skull, huge and implacable, grasping tightly and radiating pressure and pain across bone as his gaze was forced inexorably upwards. 

The favored Daughter of Thanos, the Zehoberei, stood in his line of sight. She stared down at him unblinkingly.

Earlier, she had made ruin of his hands for the second time since his capture, pinned them with fingers splayed open and methodically crushed bone with a hammer. The faint hopes he'd been harboring of their recovery had immediately become dull and distant. It was not just his limbs that the violence would cripple, but also his magic, and any spell that required the dexterity of movement and gestures. 

He'd spoken curses towards her in his panicked anger, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Ebony Maw, who had come in for a moment to oversee her work. He'd told Loki as he left that he would have to report his "abysmal rudeness" to Thanos. 

The torments on Sanctuary were great, but the punishments...those never spared in levels of excruciating cruelty.

"A slip of the tongue," Loki tried, his mind struggling for a way to change this into his favor. He was not entirely successful at keeping the tremble out of his voice, nor the grunt of pain that followed as fingers dug in sharply and pressed bruises into his skull. "Her strength was...shockingly spectacular. I only..."

He trailed off as a silver orb was brought before his eyes, clutched between two gargantuan fingers. It gleamed in the light, smooth, a stem and bow protruding from one side the only factor breaking the image of a simple harmless object.

"Open your mouth," Thanos ordered.

 _No._ Terror filled him and drove him to squirm against the grip on his head, snarling like a mad creature, broken hands flailing weakly against unrelenting strength. He kept his jaw carefully clenched, unwilling to submit himself, even though he knew that this behavior would only make things worse. 

Thanos stared down at him, pitiless, a glint of humor in his gaze at the futile struggle. He held him for long minutes, patient in demonstrating his immovable power.

Loki went still at length, breathing in frightened gasps, the tickle of tears trailing his cheeks. Hopeless rage burned deep in his lungs with every breath.

_You longed for death. But this is what you have earned._

_Thor, please. Norns, someone._

"Assist me, daughter."

Hands jabbed harshly against the hinges of his jaw, forcing his teeth to part. Hatred choked him as the orb slid into place and crushed down his tongue.

"Perhaps this will aid you in learning to take more care with your slipping words, Silvertongue."

Agony erupted.

\-----------

He woke to jarring pain.

A voice spoke and he wanted to flee, but his legs collapsed beneath him as soon as he moved. Spikes of torment grated through his shattered hands and wrists, sending him crashing onto his shoulder. He desperately pulled himself away from danger, like a worm that writhed on its belly, adrenaline spurring his movement over bruised and jutting hip-bones until the rising pain in his broken bones and flayed flesh grew even beyond what he could endure and he collapsed into a shaking heap.

"It's me," the voice said, finally piercing through the wail of his thoughts. "It's Steve Rogers."

Steve Rogers.

Not Thanos.

Not Maw.

Not Sanctuary.

The memory of the escape was slow to return, but it did return.

Relief made him giddy and formed a pressure behind his eyes. He slumped, uncaring about the hurt that the new position caused. A copper tang trickled over his tongue and he swallowed down his own blood into his aching belly, the only form of nourishment he'd taken in weeks. Every breath lanced pain through his nerves.

But he was free. The Mad Titan and the majority of his followers could no longer lay hands on him. And the one that remained...at the very least, she would have a ready obstacle preventing any further torment.

He could sense his fellow escapee standing beside him. "Do you want help?"

Want. Because need was not in dispute.

He took in a shuddering breath and tried to control his wildly arcing emotions, roughly blinking back the blur of tears. "This is as comfortable a position as any other," he said, jaw and tongue and cheeks protesting speech. "But, if you would."

He held his breath as hands awkwardly slipped beneath him, returning him to his seat with as much care as they could manage. He was grateful, even as his weakness shamed him. He knew the filth that caked him must have been abhorrent to the touch.

Then he noticed with a stab of anxiety that their craft had been docked. They were on a planet, and it was night. Bright lights shone from buildings all around them - a well-populated city, alien in every sense of the word, further out on reaches of space from Asgard than Loki had ever been. They could not have traveled far from Sanctuary, and all of the locations closest to it likely held loyalty to Thanos.

His daughter was not on the ship.

He stiffened anew, eyes swiveling as his heart hammered. "Where is she?"

The human was _frustratingly_ calm and unconcerned as he answered. "Gathering us some provisions."

Panic jolted through Loki, along with the continuous knowledge that he remained just as incapable of fleeing as he had been during their escape. "You allowed her to go _alone_?"

"She told me I wasn't exactly presentable for a public appearance," Rogers answered with some mirth.

Loki wasn't amused; he felt as if his shriveled stomach was attempting to crawl up through his chest to his throat. "She could be having second thoughts. She could be contacting her father as we speak, or offering us up for a sum of credits to help pay her way to the farthest reaches-"

"She's not," Rogers insisted, humor fading. And, oh, how his faith endured, even when Loki had already proven it wrong with his lies. "We need food, and clothes, and medical supplies. She'll be back soon."

"You only remain so certain because you did not directly see the cruelties of which she is capable," Loki said, a desperate emotion tightening his throat. _Why are you so insistent? You are useless, a liar, and such a monster that even those of Earth can see it with immediacy._ "Her assistance is circumstantial. If you had no knowledge of the Tesseract, she would have dragged us back into endless torment."

"Maybe," Rogers allowed. "But I'm not in the habit of trying to punish people for choosing to do the right thing." He folded his arms. "I'm not going to insist you shouldn't be upset. It's just that things are going to be a lot easier for all of us if we can work together."

Loki let out a shaky exhale. He remembered the torture of spines in his mouth, the scream of his jaw, the crush of unyielding metal threatening to break his teeth. 

_Large hands attached a chain to the front of the device and passed it to green fingers, the leash soon pulled cruelly taut as he struggled to crawl on broken limbs to prevent the flesh being ripped from his face._

_When he could crawl no more, he collapsed onto the floor as his lungs spasmed around the choking blood that bubbled down his trachea. He heaved and coughed between sobbing breaths, bile burning acidic trails over his throat and tongue._

_Chitauri hands forced his face into a bucket of water to cleanse him, roughly wiping him dry with a grating cloth that pulled his skin against the barbs piercing his flesh before throwing him to the floor. The metal bit in deeper, sending fresh blood rushing over his pinned tongue._

_He wished with everything in him that they would simply kill him._

_The heavy grip returned to his head, forcing his face near a pair of black boots. He shut his eyes as he felt yet another piece of himself shatter into nothingness._

_"Now, Asgardian - apologize to Gamora."_

The hatch to the ship opened. Rogers turned towards it, an abrupt tension in his spine that he quickly hid. And, Loki knew, though he had not looked into those memories - the human, too, had suffered greatly. Only luck and time had prevented his complete physical and mental deterioration. 

Someone with such a stout heart and steady conviction would have been the ideal candidate to mold into a Child of Thanos. Eventually, he would have felt the full strength of their mercilessness.

The Zehoberei entered the hatchway, causing Loki's stomach to lurch. She held several oversized bags over her shoulder that made her frame seem small in comparison, especially now that she had shed the armor that signaled her allegiance to Thanos. 

Steve Rogers moved towards her, and she stilled as he approached. 

"What are you doing," she demanded.

Rogers came to a stop, uncertain. "I was going to ask if you wanted me to take any of those."

Her eyes lit with suspicion. "No," she answered, and easily carried them into the back of the cabin, where she placed them down and began to unpack them.

Loki did not bother to to hold back the burst of gratification at her unfriendliness towards Rogers, though it was far outweighed by nervousness at the fact that she was now positioned nearer to where he was sat. He wanted dearly to move away, a maddening itch beginning at the points on his face where the wounds had begun to heal at the edges.

Rogers floundered in the face of her mistrust. He stepped closer to Loki, looking disheartened. She kept her back to them as she crouched and unloaded the supplies on her own, methodically storing them.

Eventually she pulled free a silver box and several bundles of black material and slid them back towards them on the floor. "Clothes and bathing water," she said. "Do not activate the Chitauri shower. The liquid they use is corrosive to most species and it will make you go blind."

"Understood," Rogers said.

"Her sister delighted in forcing me to drink it," Loki said, offhandedly, and braced himself as she whipped her head around to glare at him. 

She glanced at Rogers next, with something like insecurity, then went back to her sorting in a far more agitated manner. "Maybe if you shut up for half a second, your jaw will heal faster," she said, an edge of trembling in her tone.

Loki would have laughed if not for the fact that she was at least partially right. "You'll excuse me if I refuse to feel guilty about indulging in speech after being so long denied." 

And that was not mentioning that the subjects for which he would allow himself to engage in conversation were extremely limited, a rusted shutter over a yawning pit that would break him open. He knew that if he had not escaped Sanctuary, if the Other would have laid hands on him, spilled his secrets and weaknesses to his captors, he would have been lost.

Also, there was no denying that something in him, though small and beaten and backed by enraged sorrow, felt vindictive pleasure in her being unable to physically attack him without angering the third in their group.

Steve Rogers hefted a sigh, but he did not speak rebukes to either of them. Instead he examined the items she had given him, jackets and boots and pants and several liquid dispensers with purified water. He gripped one of the latter his fist. "What's next?" 

"He's going to need help with his injuries," the Zehoberei said. "I have braces and bandages, but the wounds will need cleaning before those are applied."

Loki bristled at being talked about as if he was not present. "I am sitting right here."

She stood up and stalked over with an armful of supplies, which she violently dropped into the seat next to him, the quick movement freezing his lungs with terror. "Then you explain it to him," she hissed, and stomped off to the cockpit.

When Loki felt he could breathe again, Steve Rogers raised an eyebrow. "How do you want to do this?"

\-----------

It was, to put it lightly, an ordeal.

Loki's wounds were numerous, and the patches of missing skin were only just beginning to attempt to heal in the absence of new damage. But he wanted so dearly to be clean, to be rid of the constant itch of his skin and scalp, he endured the added pain even when he had to struggle not to cry out and flinch away from the hands on him. Rogers was careful, only sluicing gentle water to remove the particles of dust and dirt from exposed muscle and bone.

His hair was a struggle, such a snarled mess of caked blood that it had to be carefully soaked and let to sit and rinsed repeatedly before the tangles could even begin to be worked at.

Loki's vision began to waver at some point, and he had to concentrate to keep from grinding his teeth at his own weakness. "If I fall unconscious," he said, voice distant to his own ears as nausea clawed up his throat, "you must promise to continue and finish this."

"Just hang on for five minutes longer," Rogers said. "We're almost done."

The world still whited out for a few moments. If he'd been on Sanctuary, they would have injected him with stimulants, drugs powerful enough to influence a god, to maintain his awareness through their tortures. He was endlessly thankful that those were not in play at this moment.

The Zehoberei was slouched in the pilot seat when Rogers carried him out of the hygiene pod, her boots propped upon the console. She was consuming some sort of fruit, and didn't spare either of them a glance as Loki was set back down into a cabin seat that Rogers must have covered with a blanket while Loki had been insensate.

Now that he was mostly clean, his injuries appeared all the more horrific. Pale limbs swollen and distended with blotches of deep purples and reds, open wounds that had begun to lazily trickle blood back over his skin. Rogers quickly wiped any residue, asking again and again about the chances of infection.

"I wish it were a possibility," Loki said, staring at his hands and forearms, so malformed that they were unrecognizable as his own. "I could have left this existence long before now."

Rogers's frown was deep as he began to wrap bracings around Loki's thighs to help the pain of the damaged tendons. "I know it's tough," he said. "But don't give up your life. It doesn't fix as much as you'd expect, not as much as living can."

Loki held back the sneer that wanted to form, the harsh words. Rogers had been kind, and helped him to win his freedom, for as little as it was worth. He owed him a great debt.

When most of his body had been bandaged and braced, and simple loose black clothes had been pulled over him, Rogers looked at last at Loki's hands. 

"Do not bother," Loki said, pulling his arms in tighter, wishing the man would cease staring. "They have been shattered and left to heal wrong a dozen times over."

Steve Rogers, predictably, was not yet dissuaded. "What if we found some kind of doctor? Is there one close by on this planet?" The last question was directed at the Zehoberei.

She did not bother rising to address them. "Not one familiar with his physiology, or in dealing with sorcerers," she said. "And we don't have time for months and months of rehabilitation." She peered over at them, then looked away. "A scout from Thanos will reach Earth long before that. If we aren't found here first. Either he lives with the injuries, or he gets them fixed on Asgard."

Steve Rogers sighed. "But that's out of the question." He said the words like he was trying to keep the note of inquiry from his voice.

Loki's heart seized with sudden longing and repulsion in equal measure. _It is so easy for you to suggest, you do not see, you do not_ know. 

Then, another voice, competing with the first, _would it truly be so bad? Allow Asgard to give you the axe. The Allfather would readily send the human to his home by any means to be rid of him._

_What else have you to live for?_

In a perfect universe, he would simply die, and not have to face the certainty of the answer to that question a second time.

"What does it matter," Loki said, tired, and very much wishing he could be alone. "Your planet must be the priority in this. Thanos has entire armies at his command. There are millions of lives at stake."

Steve Rogers looked extremely displeased by his answer. "That doesn't mean yours gets discounted as collateral in the process."

Loki shrugged. "It is simple math."

"No, it's not," Rogers said, a hardened edge to his voice.

Loki went quiet, surprise filling him. 

"This argument doesn't even have a point if we never get to Asgard," the Zehoberei said. 

Rogers turned towards her. "Then what are we waiting for?" 

There was quiet, and then Loki realized. "She is waiting for you, Captain Rogers. To know your will before proceeding." 

The knowledge was staggering. Loki was suddenly disappointed he had not managed a more thorough look into the mind behind that solemn brow. Who was this man, that he had managed to turn both one of his captors and a hopeless prisoner onto his side within days of meeting them? 

Rogers took the information with grace. "How close is the Void to hostile territory?"

"Not close," she answered. "They won't find us before we get in."

"And you're sure the scepter won't sense me."

She shrugged. "They don't have a force anywhere near ready to take Asgard. And the Chitauri are mindless pilots - they would never be able to navigate the dangers of the Void without killing themselves in their own reckless stupidity."

Steve Rogers now had his full attention on the favored Daughter. "Dangers."

Loki nearly did laugh then, because Rogers was strong, he was quick, and he was capable - but he held the same naive ignorance of all his species. "The Void is endless dark and silence broken only by the monsters that reside within it."

Blue eyes turned back to Loki. "And you fell through it without any sort of protection."

"Yes." Loki's cheeks stung with the pull of his lips. "It was meant to be a suicide."

"It's no worse than what we would face back on Sanctuary," the Zehoberei said. "It's in our favor that there's a risk involved."

Rogers looked between the two of them, then nodded. "Then we'll do it."

\-----------

The Zehoberei began their travel back as Steve Rogers disappeared again into the hygiene pod alone to work on ridding himself of the blood and grime that covered his skin.

The atmosphere quickly grew thick without the presence of their peacekeeper, an awkwardness and tension that made Loki's anticipation rise and roil. He kept his hands still with effort, reminding himself of the new pain that would start should they be moved.

And then with that thought, started the first seeds of rebellion against it.

He should just stay still and quiet. But he could not stop staring at his hands, his eyes burning with the sting of tears. He reached for his magic and felt it burn through shattered bone, the knife he wished for only summoned halfway before it flickered back out into his pocket dimension.

He tried again, snarling in pain, and felt bone shift and grate in his hands.

"Stop it, stop!"

Loki looked up to see the Zehoberei was on her feet. "You're going to ruin what little progress you've made," she said.

Loki panted, staring back, his hands throbbing terribly. "Would it please you to watch?"

She made a noise of irritation and bodily hefted herself back into the pilot seat. 

Loki huffed out a dark laugh. "Or would you prefer to do it yourself. It must be odd to go so long a stretch without engaging in torture and murder."

"Please leave me alone," she responded, grip going tight against the flight controls.

Loki felt his skin tug painfully as he tensed. "The only times _I_ was left alone in the last month was when you strung me up by my bridle to the walls," he hissed, wishing he could stand, do _anything_ more than simply summon words. 

She slammed her hand down on the autopilot function and again rose from her seat. Loki felt his breaths quicken through his nostrils, but he refused to give in to terror, far too angry to allow those feelings to overcome him.

She came close enough that he would see her glare, but she did not strike him. "I don't care what your plan is from here on out," she said. "Keep yourself from getting better, like an idiot. As long as you don't screw up our mission for the Tesseract."

"And what exactly is _your_ plan, Daughter of Thanos? Or would you really expect me to believe that you would change allegiances out of the goodness of your heart?"

"I don't really care what you believe."

"Is that why you have stopped piloting the ship, because you 'do not care?'"

She folded her arms, breaking eye contact. "It doesn't matter, because you're not helping us, remember? You're not going to be involved."

Loki bared his teeth, feeling a sudden anger that shocked him. "If you are intending to betray him-"

"I'm not. This is about the fact that your legs might heal on their own, your back and organs will recover from the Chitauri venom, but your hands are going to be useless without help. You _know_ that." She sucked in a trembling breath. "I am sorry that Thanos found you. But I am less sorry that you were freed before he reached the point of healing you."

The door to the Chitauri hygiene pod opened. Steve Rogers stepped out, looking between them with hair damp and skin cleansed. He was dressed in a white shirt and black coat and pants, a matching outfit to what the Zehoberei wore. 

With his color revived and the greasy limpness gone from his hair, the slight stubble born of his time in captivity, their companion looked like he could have been born a golden son of Asgard.

Loki noted belatedly the daughter of Thanos was also staring. When Rogers looked her way, her eyes widened slightly. 

He looked between them, confused. "Everything okay?" 

"It's fine," she said, hurriedly sitting back in her seat and turning her focus entirely towards flying. 

Oblivious to their scrutiny, and the argument that had come before it, Rogers turned back to Loki.

"We were merely discussing the practicalities of a route," Loki said, his hands still screaming with renewed pain. She'd been right, and he would regret his actions over the next hours as his hands retread the beginning of the delicate healing process.

Rogers didn't look convinced, but neither did he press. "Uh-huh." He sighed, then raised his eyebrows. "So, hungry?"

\-----------

Loki was only capable of taking in the smallest amounts of food, and even that felt like it would force his stomach to burst. But with the quenching of his thirst for the first time since he could remember, some pain in him lessened. The food and drink would speed his healing appreciably without forcing his body to pull so painfully at its own depleted reserves.

It galled him to be forced to rely on someone else's hands for an activity as basic as drinking water, but Rogers was steady and patient and offered Loki breaks when he feared the phantom pain of Chitauri acid that painted the inside of his throat was a reality. 

It was a far better experience than the toxins he had been forced to consume on Sanctuary.

The Luphomoid, the second daughter, vicious and bitter, was the cause of the grand majority of those particular nightmares. She was of a state to be easily angered, but careful nonetheless, with a healthy fear of the wrath of Thanos. So it was that when he attempted to goad her into killing him, she would manage to hold back just from the brink. But she was not kind.

_Chains wrapped about his limbs, his torso. The bridle anchored painfully at each side so that he was forced to look up, unable to move his head._

_A metal siphon was shoved into his gaping mouth, a bucket with sloshing contents held readily above him._

_Black eyes, a cocked head, reveling in his terror. "Drink," she ordered, and then burning fluid scalded his insides raw._

Loki drew away from the cup Rogers was presenting. "I think," he commented, "that I am done for now."

Rogers frowned, lowering his limb. "All right," he said. "Let me know if you need more."

Loki nodded, frustration flaring roughly against his lungs. Rogers took a seat next to the Zehoberei, asking her about the workings of the weapons she'd provided him. 

Loki felt a low pang of jealousy, and stubbornly kept his eyes on the wall across from himself, trying to block them out. His body longed for sleep, but more than the dreams that he feared, his hands were still throbbing with the urgency of his shattered bones. The pain would keep him from true rest.

Irrationally, the weakness made him want to reach for his magic again, harder and harder, like he used to do as an unpracticed child. Brute force would avail him nothing except rendering him even further helpless than he already was, diverting his magic from the healing his body sorely needed and turning it against him, damaging tissue and bone in the process.

And still, it would not kill him.

A familiar voice rumbled in his ears. _"Asgardian."_

Loki shut his eyes against the memories that were crowding in, wishing his ruin of a mind would leave him alone.

_"Open your eyes. I am not the figment you would expect."_

A jolt of terror. Loki pried open his gaze and flinched back hard against his seat, seizing with the resulting pain of the impact. 

Thanos stood before him. In his hand he held a scepter, inset with a stone of brilliant glowing blue. "Did you really think that I would not find you?"

His thoughts clawed over each other in a mad scramble. _No. No, no, no...you are_ not here.

Thanos scanned the walls, the ceiling of the ship, eyes shrewd. "I trust Gamora is with you." 

Loki very carefully did not turn to look towards the cockpit, suddenly aware that the Mad Titan's vision was limited. If he could have thought of anything beyond his quailing cowardice, he might have tried to lie, even is his mind. As it was he could only shudder in denial at the return of the most prominent face in his nightmares.

Thanos smirked at his defiance. "And the human?"

Loki tried, helplessly, to stop his thoughts. His magic writhed limply within his veins, weak and useless. _No, I am free of you._

"So he is here, too." Thanos stared at the scepter in his grasp. "Now you see, the power you are offered. An entire race would have fallen to your rule."

_Power I would only be allowed to wield after you had broken me. Made me into your perfect pawn. Nothing more than a slave._

"Freedom is life's great lie," Thanos said. "There is still time. Return to me. Return my daughter. Prove your loyalty, and I will reward you." An image appeared beside Thanos - of Loki, dressed in gold and standing tall and strong, the scepter in his grasp.

And then he was gone.

The cabin was empty. 

Vaguely Loki could hear voices - Steve Rogers speaking wryly at something the Daughter of Thanos had said. The words did not register as he struggled to breathe through the icy boulder set in his guts. _It was not real,_ he thought. _It was a figment born of the suffering you have endured._

Then, louder, _it is too late. The Mad Titan has your scent. There will be nowhere you can run to escape. Nowhere that can protect you._

Nowhere, except perhaps one place.

Asgard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Final part of the ficlet that got away from me. There's not really a proper conclusion here, and one day I intend to continue it. No idea when, though.
> 
> As always, you can keep an eye on any fic progress on my [Tumblr.](HTTPS://anamelessdragon.tumblr.com)

It was Nebula's shift for helping Gamora to deal with the Asgardian prisoner, but she was nowhere to be found. He had not yet been worn down yet for them to risk dealing with him individually, at least not until they had a better measure of his power and strength. 

_"Take care, Gamora,"_ Thanos had said. _"There is magic in his veins. Tricks beneath his physical strength."_

Gamora cursed as she searched her sister's quarters and the sparring arena, to no avail. It wasn't like Nebula not follow orders from Thanos with the eager readiness of a trained hound.

But maybe they had been altered. Maybe she'd been sent away from Sanctuary, for some other mission.

She moved to the throne room, intending to check with Thanos. When she neared, the voice of the focus of her search rang out.

"The Asgardian _bit_ me! And then when I retaliated he shot spikes of ice from his hands. He killed the guards and somehow disconnected his cell from the ship's power grid. If you do not want me to kill him, we need better restraints."

"Your whining does not amuse." 

The tone sent shivers down Gamora's spine. She paused, staying out of sight rather than making her presence known.

"He is but one prisoner. You have all of the assistance you could demand, and you come here complaining of ice." A rough noise, unkind and judging. "Keep him contained with the resources you have, or I will have you removed permanently from this task."

Nebula's anger had been forced down, but there was still a terse quality to her voice that she could not control. "Understood, father."

Gamora had already turned away and was a large distance down the hallway when Nebula's quick and angry footsteps caught up with her.

"You were listening to that," Nebula accused. 

"I didn't hear anything," Gamora answered, even if she was internally rolling her eyes at her sister's childish behavior. There were protocols in dealing with prisoners of power for a reason. 

Nebula growled in aggravation. "That Asgardian bastard. We'll see how well he runs when I slice his legs open and cut every inch of his tendons." Her hurried footsteps carried her faster forward, drawing her away from Gamora and down the hall.

 _Why not just break his hands?_ Gamora didn't say it out loud. The second the thought formed, the more the details began to spiral into being. Thanos would send the Asgardian after the Tesseract, that was something that couldn't be stopped without outright defiance and risking her own life and skin. But even Asgardians had to have a limit. 

She went off in search of the right tool.

\-----------

The flight was, in spite of their previous encounters on Sanctuary, going much better than Gamora had expected.

Neither Steve Rogers nor the Asgardian had tried to kill her yet. That was good - even if they both tried at once, they would still lose. And she wanted at the very least to keep the human as her companion until they could locate the Tesseract. He was the one with the most recent knowledge of its location.

Rogers was looking at the flight console where the coordinates were displayed in Chitauri numbers. Of course, he didn't have a hope of understanding them. "How far out are we now?"

"About six hundred clicks," she answered. "Once the wormhole approaches, we'll all need to be strapped in."

She could see Rogers thinking, trying to convert his newly learned measurements of space travel into a frame of unit he would better understand. He turned his head to glance back at the Asgardian. "Loki, did you hear that? Just a couple more hours before we head in." 

There was no response.

Rogers sighed, looking like he wanted to say more, but he only looked back forward in silence.

"Is he sleeping?" Gamora asked.

Rogers dipped his head in discontent, strands of his blond hair hanging forward across his forehead. "No, he's...staring at the wall."

She wasn't sure if she felt more guilty or irritated about that behavior, but she decided to settle on irritation. It was easier than the other. "Leave him," she said, unable to help the tension in her frame. "He doesn't want to help us."

She could see the conflict in the human's eyes. "I don't think he should have to, after everything he's been through. But there's not exactly a place we can drop him off to rest, right?"

She felt guilt thrum more strongly in her chest. "Does anyone on your planet know how to heal sorcerers?"

He jerked up a shoulder in a shrug. "I honestly don't know. Apparently I've been out of the loop for seventy odd years. Things can change a lot in that time. I don't even know if..." He trailed off, turning his head to gaze at the stars.

She should not have cared, but she felt drawn to break the quiet distress. "Know what?"

Rogers inhaled deeply, a subtle hint of frown lines beginning on his forehead. "I was fighting a war, before I went under. I didn't see how it ended."

"But you're going back anyway," Gamora said.

"If he's right, any insights Loki could give me would be more up to date at this point than what I know." Rogers looked back towards the cabin again. "I'm almost afraid to ask what it was like."

 _It doesn't really matter what it would be like,_ Gamora thought. _It'll be the same for you that my home planet is now for me - a place tainted by brutal violence and the fragile ghosts of happy memories. A world full of corpses._

She kept her voice even, trying to betray none of her own conflict. "Our main goal should be to keep the Tesseract from Thanos at all costs." The words were a reminder for her as much as him.

Now Rogers finally looked at her again. "Do you know what he's planning?"

"He's a megalomaniac who wants to murder billions to prove a point." She swallowed hard, still not quite able to believe what she'd done. 

When she was younger, she had often considered running away. When she'd gotten older, she'd eventually realized what a monumental risk such an action would have been. 

Now it was a risk she had spontaneously taken, and somehow gotten away with.

"He'll kill and torture anyone to get his way," she continued. "He already has armies at his command, and worlds more that owe him fealty."

"Hasn't anyone tried to stop him?"

"Some. But he's powerful, and the stones will only make him unstoppable." She held back the shiver that wanted to form. "He's been biding his time so he won't be discovered before he strikes. That's our only advantage. He's so confident that he can't imagine anyone standing up to him and succeeding."

"We'll prove him wrong," Rogers said. He glanced back again with an expression of growing concern.

Gamora tried to ignore the return of her annoyance. "The Asgardian won't be able to fly this ship if we leave him with it."

"I know," Rogers said.

She shook her head. "If he doesn't change his mind about his course of action..."

Rogers turned on her with a sharp look. "We can't leave him out here alone."

"That's not what I was going to suggest." She stared straight ahead. "It might be...kinder, to help him end it."

Something darkened on the human's face. "That's not an option."

She ground her teeth. "If he doesn't surrender to Asgard, he's going to be adrift."

"Dying doesn't fix anything." Rogers leaned back in his seat. "I'll figure something out."

She wanted to believe him. It almost seemed like luck weighted his shoulders like a mantle. She didn't know how he'd managed to get as far as he did with the escape on Sanctuary, especially burdened with a dependent and damaged ally.

Deep down she knew it was his determination, not luck, that saw him through. No one lucky would be faced with the tasks they had ahead of them.

"Thanos could find him again," she said.

Then, from behind them - "He already has." 

Gamora turned her head, but the Asgardian was looking at nothing, as Rogers had said. She felt a chill in the air. "What are you talking about?"

"I was wrong," Loki murmured, his eyes haunted. "To think that I could escape so easily."

Rogers met her eyes in confusion. "We got out," he said to Loki. "It's just us."

Gamora checked the ship sensors for nearby crafts, but they came up clear. "We weren't followed," she said, still not able to shake the feeling of dread.

"He did not need to follow," Loki intoned. "He had already dug himself deep inside of me." He seemed to shake himself, and finally met her eyes with a quiet horror. "We must make all haste to Asgard."

It was that, more than anything, that got Gamora's attention. "You want to come with us now?"

Loki bared his teeth. "What I _want_ is a knife to my heart, which Asgard may provide."

"I'm going to go talk to him," Rogers said, leaving his seat and heading into the back.

Gamora kept her hands on the controls, steering them straight.

"What's going on?" Rogers asked behind her.

Loki responded, distracted and quiet. "You should help me with these security restraints."

"Now you're avoiding the subject. What are you seeing?"

A hesitation, and Gamora felt her heart pound harder with every second it stretched. 

"You'll think I'm mad," Loki finally answered.

"I'm learning to redefine my impressions of what constitutes crazy talk."

"He spoke to me."

"Who?"

"Thanos," Loki said. 

Gamora felt the flight controls dig sharply into her palms as she gripped them harshly. "He must have the scepter," she said.

"What scepter," Rogers asked

"A weapon that wields within it a stone that is kin to the Tesseract," Loki answered. "Vessels of might and power."

Gamora activated the autopilot and moved into the cabin. 

Loki stared up at her as she approached. Rogers had belted him into his seat, but his posture gave away the fact that the pressure of the restraints on his injuries was not easy to endure.

She forced her voice into an even demand. "What is Thanos saying to you?"

"He's offered me scepter and Earth in return for my agreement in bringing him the Tesseract." Loki raised his hands as if to press them to his forehead, then was forced to drop them when he remembered himself. "It is...becoming a more appealing prospect."

Gamora felt her lungs constrict. She'd known this was a possibility. She gestured at the security belts. "We need to make those tighter."

Rogers drew his head up in attention. "Why?"

"If Thanos is in his head, it might get worse the closer we get to Sanctuary on our way to the Void. He's already being influenced by the stone."

Rogers glanced at Loki in confusion before he faced her. "I thought the stones just opened portals."

"The Tesseract opens portals," she corrected. "The scepter has the ability to control minds."

Rogers, finally, looked slightly perturbed. "Can Thanos do the same to us?"

"Nowhere near as easily from this distance." Gamora folded her arms. "He's spent the last several weeks opening up the Asgardian's mind to prepare him for the Other's arrival and the influence of the stone."

"Is that what we are calling it," Loki said dryly. He looked anxiously towards the cockpit. "Why are you not flying the ship? We need to move quickly."

Gamora didn't move. "Because we are all in danger the second he decides to stop trying to convince you and decides to take your cooperation by force."

"I'll watch him," Rogers said.

She shook her head. "You're strong, Steve Rogers. But you're not an Asgardian. There is a reason Thanos chose him to lead his army to retrieve the Tesseract. Even without his hands and magic, he is dangerous."

Loki was staring at her with far too much calculation in his eyes. "Oh. You _wanted_ me permanently crippled," he said. "To kill me would have been too great an offense to overlook. But you had the ability to attempt to damage me beyond all use and make it appear as an accident."

"I did what I had to," she said, studiously keeping herself from looking towards Steve Rogers to see what judgment would be on his expression. 

Loki raised his eyebrows. "And when they healed me and sent me to Earth?"

"It's not a neat process," she answered, unapologetic. "I've seen the Other attempt healing on people before, to keep them alive indefinitely so we could get the answers we needed. Only the strongest have been able to be revived under its influence. It requires time, and constant contact with the source of energy. That way they could make sure you were never too far from their influence."

"A ready leash," Loki surmised. "And meanwhile, the general for their army against Earth would be at a distant capacity in power."

"It doesn't change anything," she said. "I still think killing you would make things easier."

Loki made a noise in his throat, eyebrows twitching. "That makes two of us."

"I've already said we're not doing that," Steve Rogers said, his gaze verging on exasperated. "Gamora, fly the ship. Get us to the Void as fast as possible. I'll stay back here. Loki, you let me know the instant you think something is wrong. We're not letting him take you." His eyes softened. "I know you're tired. But you have to be ready to fight. Don't let him win when we've already gotten this far."

Loki's expression flashed bleak resignation before shuttering into a smooth mask. "As you will, Captain."

\----------

The next several hours passed in eerie and tense quiet. Loki did not mention Thanos again, but he forced himself to stay awake, clearly terrified of the defenselessness of sleep. Steve Rogers stayed with him, and spoke with him every so often, offering food or water that Loki acquiesced to with obvious reluctance.

Gamora stared out at the stars and kept an eye on their coordinates as she neared the area where the wormhole to the Void must have been located. 

It was an obvious sight when they came upon it. 

As if materializing from nowhere came a sudden circumference of lazily drifting menace of purple and blue tendrils - and at its center, a circle black as pitch. It was smaller than she'd expected, but she knew that was just an illusion. As soon as they entered it, their ship would be drawn into crushing speed and strength.

"You need to take a seat, now," she told Rogers. "We can't risk you flying around the ship when we hit turbulence."

Rogers reluctantly came to sit next to her, staring in awe at the Void. "It doesn't seem so bad from out here," he remarked. "There's a lot more color than I expected."

Gamora was beginning to get used to the human's words of positivity. "Assuming nothing manages to rip us apart on our way through, there'll be more on the other side."

The look he sent her said that she hadn't quite managed the note of comfort she'd been attempting, and she didn't quite care enough to rectify that fact. She stared forward in readiness. "Entering the Void now. Hold on."

She could feel the resistance as they neared the opening, the ship slowing down to half-speed as it struggled against the force. The black gaped around them the closer they came, growing until it swallowed the entire ship. There were flashes of blue and then the ship jerked violently, rocking her painfully against her restraints as it shook and rumbled and finally was pulled into complete darkness. Even the stars disappeared.

Rogers stared out in uncertainty. "Are we still moving?"

Gamora tapped the console displaying their coordinates. The readings were wildly inaccurate, splitting between entire galaxies with each second. "The ship is making progress," she said. "The Void is messing with the navigation, but the engines are still intact."

Behind them, Loki began to scream.

Steve Rogers unbuckled his belt and leapt up, nearly falling into her as the ship jerked again. 

There was a cracking noise, and something hit the back of Gamora's head with enough strength to send her neck whipping forward. She cursed as she recovered from the stinging pain, her attention was immediately drawn back outside as a massive and undulating serpentine shape several times the ship's size appeared in a pulse of radiantly glowing lines of color - some huge creature that made its home in the bleak dark of airless space. Just as immediately, it disappeared in the blackness in front of them, completely invisible.

She angled the ship sharply away, trying to keep track of their course as the Void pulled them through. 

"Stay back," she heard Loki hiss.

"What's going on," Gamora shouted, keeping her eyes glued to the window.

"Loki's out of his seat," Roger's said, as if that fact wasn't a thing of concern. "I've got it. How long do we have until we're through?"

"You think I'd know?" Gamora felt her stress levels rise, and normally she would fix such a thing with a blade directed at whatever was bothering her but that frustratingly wasn't an option with this situation. "We could have _days_ left before we reach Asgard." 

She jerked the ship away from something that looked disturbingly like a tentacle, and heard thumps in the cabin. She didn't dare turn to look.

"Thanos grows impatient with my defiance," Loki said, voice strained.

"Stay with us," Rogers urged.

Loki growled. "I am _trying._ He...he..."

Rogers spoke in sudden worry. "What are you doing?"

"What I must," Loki said.

"Loki!"

The screaming was back, abrasive to her ears. She couldn't see Thanos, couldn't hear him, but she felt his presence in the misery on the ship, the full-throated roar of agony.

Loki wasn't the only one who couldn't escape. 

There was an audible crunching noise, and Loki's screams reached a pitch.

"Oh, god," Rogers said. "Loki, stop!"

Gamora desperately reached down for her shock stick, throwing it back. "Use this!"

"He's not trying to hurt me," Rogers protested. "He's-"

"Use it! I can't look away or we'll all die."

"You'll never have me," Loki was gasping, his words slurred. "I am-"

There was a jolting noise from the shock stick, a slam, and then silence. 

Gamora waited, listening for any added danger before she allowed herself to speak. "What happened?"

She could hear Rogers breathing heavily. "He's down. I-"

There was a thud, and then a body slammed right on top of the flight controls next to her. Gamora shouted as the ship took a nosedive, reaching out and yanking Rogers from the console to the floor to give herself back full control.

When she'd righted the ship she finally turned her head for a moment and saw Loki on the ground, struggling to pull himself up on slipping legs that would not hold his weight. His face was drawn and tensed, tendons stark against his skin. His eyes looked far too blue.

"He can't fight against the power of an infinity stone forever," Gamora said as Rogers recovered next to her. "No one can."

"We can't just give up on him," Rogers said.

"She is right," Loki said. "Freedom is life's great lie." He sucked in a breath and made an agonized sound. "But thanks to her thoroughness, I may still have one method of escape."

Gamora couldn't help it - she looked again, suddenly not sure where the greater threat was located. Loki was on the ground, upright on his knees. A green glow began at his fingers, sputtering to life and spreading upwards. His hands, bruised and swollen, began to twitch. The discoloration of blood pooling beneath the skin began to spread, up his forearms and beneath his sleeves. Gamora realized as it happened again what the crunching noise from before had been - Loki's bones breaking as he struggled to use his magic when the path for its outlet had been destroyed.

Loki's voice rose.

Steve Rogers tried to stand and Gamora grabbed him by the shirt to stop him.

"He's killing himself," Rogers said, desperate. 

"We can't risk him attacking you," she said. 

"I am not your puppet," Loki growled. The wounds on his face were pulling open and widening, thick blood pouring down from his cheeks and mouth. He looked insane, snarling wildly through teeth stained red. "I will not dance for your will!"

A blast of green raged through the cabin, a burst of force that nearly sent Gamora from her seat. It shot outwards through space, and she saw large shapes in the blackness before them shrink back and flee as they were illuminated.

Loki was still sitting upright, his forearm braced over one of the cabin seats. The floor beneath him was covered in drops of bright red.

"He is gone," Loki said, shaking with shock.

Steve Rogers made to move towards him, and this time Gamora let him. "God, you're...I'll get some new bandages."

Loki twitched, eyes still overlarge on his face. "We have not yet reached Asgard. He may be back."

"I'm not letting you bleed out."

"Leave it. It is slowing, for now."

Rogers spoke unhappily. "At least lie back and conserve your strength."

"Captain Rogers," Loki said, an odd emphasis on the title. "I no longer have any strength to conserve. Understand that if I allow myself to fall now, I will not be able to get back up." The words shook violently, like Loki was an instant away from full collapse in spite of them. When she looked back she saw his eyes were growing alarmingly unfocused. "My body is currently held together by what little magic I have left. When that weakens, so too will more of my tissue and bone, and I will be even less capable of repelling his control."

"You're dying," Rogers said.

"The price," Loki admitted, something raw and broken coming to the fore. "I am not fighting him or the stone, but my very being. It...will not be quick. Or kind." He broke off with a tense noise of pain. "I think...that our companion would agree...I am the most expedient of our crew, to keep the Titan's attention."

Gamora clenched her jaw. "Rogers, I have an idea. Come sit down and take over flying for me."

Steve Rogers reluctantly came owe and took control. "What about the space monsters?"

"It looks like whatever Loki did chased off the Void creatures. But keep an eye out."

Gamora moved herself to one of the Chitauri sleep pods and began to pull it apart until she found what she was looking for.

Loki swayed drunkenly when she approached him, skin covered with sweat and blood. There was a telltale sheen to the black clothes that covered his thin form.

"Asgardian," she said. She held the needle in front of him and waited for his eyes to lock onto it. She was endlessly surprised that he didn't try to attack her then and there, even as weak as he was. 

She could see in his eyes that he wanted to, breaths heaving and eyes burning like a desperate and half-dead animal that would kill for every second that it could stretch its own life.

"It'll give you the strength to fight," she said.

He gazed up at her. "While poisoning me."

"You've probably already fractured a dozen more bones and you're still upright, don't complain to me about poison." She hesitated, tamping down her anger. "Thanos didn't have the resources to break you on Sanctuary. Don't let him do it now."

Loki stared at her for a long moment. Then he looked away and gave a tight nod. He flinched violently and sucked in air through flared nostrils when she injected him.

After that, it took him all of ten seconds to begin vomiting, bent double and rasping painfully. 

"It's fine," she yelled towards Rogers when she saw him jerk in reaction. "Keep flying."

When Loki straightened again, it was with more steadiness.

"Now I feel ready to claw apart my own body," he said, his tone conversational despite the new sweat that broke out on his skin and the shivering that would not stop. "And yours. And the ship's."

"Use that to repel his control," she said, all the while knowing that he existed on borrowed time. "Fight him. We'll get through this."

"Daughter of Thanos, your lies are as fragile as spun glass."

"I am _not_ his daughter."

"And I am not Asgardian," he hissed, his voice holding a wild edge. "Which of you remains my greatest enemy? The Mad Titan presented the orders, but you among all of his followers heeded them with the most willingness and cruelty."

She wanted to put a knife to his throat, anything to shut him up. The Chitauri drugs were warping his emotions. "Don't be an idiot. I am not your enemy anymore, and you can't fight the both of us at once. _Focus._ "

She drew away, hoping in fury that he would listen.

\----------

Hours passed, stretching on and on, and still the Void would not end. Thanos returned to Loki three times. But each attempt at possession grew weaker the farther they were positioned from his reach.

Unfortunately, Loki's strength was waning, too. He fought for control with screaming rage and then strained moans as his body was ruined by his own struggle. In the reprieves between the assaults on his mind Steve Rogers offered water and words of comfort while she topped up the Chitauri drugs when they traded flying the ship.

During the preparation for Loki's last dose, she thought that he would finally give in. She wanted nothing more than to stick a knife in his throat and end his misery, and she knew he had to want it just as much. 

But she stayed her hand.

Loki stared at her like he didn't recognize her, shaking, his eye color shifting into a deeper blue and then back. "He is disappointed in you."

She flinched back, needle raised in ready defense. 

The blue spread, nearly covering the entirety of Loki's pupils. "He gave you everything you could have ever wanted."

Gamora clenched her hand against the needle more tightly and stabbed it into Loki's shoulder. He gasped, and she felt his forearm come up behind her, swollen and useless to defend himself.

"No," she hissed. "He gave himself what he wanted. I was just too young and scared to realize that."

She depressed the plunger, giving Loki his highest dose yet. If he was going to die, he was going to do it without Thanos in his head.

"Get him out," she ordered.

Loki roared, pupils forming back to black, his veins darkening in a grotesque stretch upwards from his injection sight. She could feel him struggle for his magic, for the strength to fend off his mind's infiltration.

"We've got incoming," Rogers suddenly said.

"Fire on it!" Gamora snapped, her eyes still on Loki's struggle. 

"No, it's not - Gamora, _look!_ "

She finally raised her head to see flashes of blue and the recurrence of stars all around the ship. They'd made it to the other side.

Above them, beneath a bridge of light and color, floated a man in a red cape. He beckoned them with a sweep of his arm and then turned around and sped off through the air.

"Looks like he's a friend," Rogers said, visible relief in his posture. He set their course after the caped man. "How's Loki?"

A gurgling rasp sounded behind her. "Not...well..."

Gamora turned to see Loki's eyes streaming blood-tinged tears. 

He collapsed into her and she reached up instinctively to support him, lowering him carefully to the floor.

He shook violently, blood spilling over his lips. "What irony...the mighty Thor arrives...far too late."

"He's one of your people," Gamora realized. "We're close to Asgard."

"But I'm afraid I've strained myself...far beyond my limits." Loki arched against the ground, grimacing. "I can feel...everything coming apart..." 

When she grabbed for another dose of Chitauri stimulant he stopped her progress with a trembling voice that was barely above a whisper. "Please...let the other be the last time. I am...so tired. I do not want to be awake for the end."

Gamora felt a sudden lump in her throat. In their hands on Sanctuary, the Asgardian had cursed them, and he had screamed, and he had wept. 

But he'd never begged.

She lowered the needle.

Loki slumped with a weak moan, his head rocking in agony. "Thor," he murmured, eyelids fluttering. "Tell Thor...he needn't worry. The monster is slain."

She rushed up to the cockpit. "He doesn't have much time," she said, then went quiet as a golden palace towered before them. "Go back to him. I'll take over here. Say your goodbyes while you still can."

Steve Rogers moved from his seat and into the back, speaking quietly, and she tried not to listen to whatever was said next. 

The man in the read cape - Thor, Loki had said, - indicated an opening to her in the palace in which to land the ship.

There were no guards to greet them, no soldiers ready to attack or lock her up. Only the caped man boarded the ship, tall and powerful, a large hammer in his grasp. His eyes immediately locked onto where Rogers knelt next to the broken body on the ground.

"Loki," he hissed, coming forward immediately to his knees beside the fallen Asgardian. "Brother. No, what has happened?"

The words were pure with shock and despair. This must have been the crown prince, but there was none of the hatred or wariness that she would have expected from Loki's account of their battle before his fall.

Aa for Loki...his skin had gone grey, darker lines like cracks spreading throughout, blood leaking from every visible orifice, his eyes open and unseeing. He still breathed, but shallow and weak, with long stretches between inhales - clinging to life by the barest threads as his magic failed him. He moaned, but made no other response to Thor's touch.

"What was done to him," Thor demanded. He looked up at them with a futile anger. "Who are you?"

"He was tortured," Steve Rogers answered. "We were both prisoners. He helped me escape."

The sharp scent of ozone filled the air. "Tortured how? Where?"

"On the other side of the Void that hangs beneath your galaxy," Gamora said, torn between bringing attention to herself and giving the information Loki's family deserved. 

Thor brought his arms down beneath Loki and raised him from the floor, ignoring the blood that stained his armor. "I must take him to the Healing Halls at once," he said, taking rushing steps to exit the ship. "Please follow me. The healers will need precise information of his injuries."

Thor did not wait for them as he all but ran from the ship, speaking furious and panicked words to the broken body in his arms. Rogers quickly rushed after him, and then immediately slowed when he took in the scale of the columns and walls around them, the sun beaming in on the immaculate floor. 

But Gamora herself did not focus on anything but the sight that they followed.

A swollen hand was hanging visibly to the side of glinting armor, swinging with the ferocity of movement of its handler's steps, distended fingers leaving smears of red on silver. She couldn't take her eyes off of it - a grotesque metronome counting down the seconds until they realized who she was and what she had done.

And maybe she deserved it. But the Tesseract was only the beginning. There were more stones, and if she had to make it her life's work, she would ensure that they all stayed far out of the reach of Thanos and any of his followers. 

She'd stopped walking. Steve Rogers noticed. Thor did not.

"I can't," she said when the human faced her. "You heard Loki. The instant they know me they'll lock me up."

"You got us here," Rogers said. "That has to count for something."

She wanted to believe him. In the absence of a true source for her anger she felt like there was a hole that was beginning to gape inside of her. "You have too much faith in your heart, Steve Rogers." 

He met her eyes with a severe gaze. "If you don't want to follow me, that's your choice," he said. "But I'd really appreciate it if you did."

He turned and continued to walk after Thor. 

She didn't move for several seconds, the sound of her pounding heart overtaking the clack of fading footsteps. She'd thought she'd made peace with the idea of being alone. The price for leaving Sanctuary, and her false family. She should trust that Steve Rogers and the Asgardians would be enough to guard the Tesseract, and continue her search for the other stones. 

But her feet did not carry her back to the Chitauri ship. Reluctantly, she braced herself and raised her head, and followed him.

This was incredibly stupid.

\----------

The healers were already gathered around Loki, a representation of his bodily particles raised in gold above his body. They had isolated the traces of the Chitauri stimulant in his veins while Steve Rogers spoke with their head, an Asgardian woman who controlled the display.

No sooner had Gamora entered the room than she was forced to move aside when she heard approaching footsteps. A man holding a spear and wearing an eyepatch of gold spared her only a glance as he came into the chambers. 

Odin Borson, the leader of the Asgardians, and possibly one of the greatest threats to Thanos that currently existed. His spear wielded no infinity stone, but its power was nonetheless of the gods.

Her training would be all but useless here.

"Father," Thor said, his voice like a prayer. "Heimdall was right. It was Loki."

The King of Asgard moved forward and placed a hand on the side of Loki's cheek. He gazed upwards to the golden particles, and then towards the head healer.

She shook her head.

Thor clenched his jaw, brow drawn low. "There must be _something_ we can do."

"He has expended himself beyond his means," Odin said, fingers fluttering against Loki's skin. "His magic is fading."

Someone else entered the room - a woman, who gasped at the sight of the damaged body and ran forward, her hands replacing Odin's in clutching at Loki's face. "Oh, my son," she cried. 

Odin's wife, Frigga. Nowhere near as dangerous as her husband, but not a threat to be dismissed. 

"You are not allowed to leave me," she told Loki's unconscious form. "Not when I finally have you back."

Gamora knew it then - despite Loki's words, Asgard would have had no intention of killing him.

Her guilt increased tenfold. She stepped forward.

"I was a Daughter of Thanos," she said, her throat tightening as she drew their attention. "He found your son and tasked me among others in...torturing him. First for information, and then to sway him to our side. I broke his hands to stop him from using his magic."

Thor's eyes flashed. "You did this to him?"

"But she helped us escape," Steve Rogers broke in, his stance indicating his readiness for defense. He didn't understand just how useless such a fight would be.

She went on, stubbornly ignoring the voice in her head that wanted her to shut up. "Loki tried to use his magic anyway, and destroyed his own body fighting Thanos's control while we were on our way here. I injected him with drugs to keep him awake." 

"If she speaks truly, then Loki forced the majority of the damage with his own magic," Odin said. He raised his spear, and placed it lengthwise over Loki's body, then grasped the swollen hands in his own and placed them around it. 

Frigga spoke sharply. "You're going to send him faster into death if you are not careful. His body will not be able to handle dark energies in his state."

"I am not using dark energies, but my own." Odin tapped the spear, and then gazed up at the particles that represented Loki's body. A small beam of light began to spread outwards at the hands. "No one is to remove this, or tamper with it in any way. His life force is delicate and in need of bolstering, but if he is given too much magic too quickly it will overload him and kill him."

Thor swallowed. "You can save him. He will not die."

"No," Odin said. "I do not believe so." His eye locked onto Gamora. "Leave us," he said to the healers. "I would speak with our visitors." 

The healers left without a word.

Odin watched her with an unblinking eye. "Is there a request you would make of me, Daughter of Thanos."

"What?" Thor stared at his father incredulously. "She admitted to torturing Loki nearly to his death, and you would offer gifts?"

"Your brother was the prisoner of a Titan," Odin said to Thor, "a being of great power whose cruel appetites know no satiation. If Thanos desired Loki's complicity, the only possible outcomes are that he would have given in to his captor's will, or he would have perished."

Thor hefted his hammer. "Then I will go and find this Titan," he stated. "And I will smash his head from his shoulders."

"You will do no such thing," Frigga said, her voice stern. "Not if you value your life. It is a miracle that Loki was returned to us at all."

"We'd both still be stuck back there if it wasn't for her," Rogers agreed. 

Gamora looked at Odin. "I am no family to Thanos," she said. "He murdered my parents and stole me from my home to make me into a weapon to further his plans."

Loki's words sprung into her mind unbidden. _"My heritage is not that of Asgard. I was taken as a babe, by their king during war."_

Odin's expression betrayed no emotion. "Would you seek vengeance?"

"No," she said. "Thanos wants to collect each of the infinity stones. I want to keep him from obtaining them."

"He's going for the Tesseract, first," Rogers said. "It's on Earth."

Thor frowned. "Earth?"

Steve nodded. "We came here to ask if we could use your...bridge, to get back there."

"The bridge was what we passed when I guided you from your exit point," Thor said. "It is being rebuilt, but..."

"It's broken," Gamora finished, the realization flooding her with frustration.

Rogers frowned. "So what does that mean?"

Odin turned to the human. "There is no way to Earth through the Bifrost until it has been rebuilt. I would perhaps be able to send a single person, but the process creates a great toll on the traveler's body. And it will require the use of Gungnir."

"This attack," Thor said, "when will it occur?"

"I don't know," Gamora said. "He was anticipating months more before Loki would be ready. If he wants to continue with a similar plan, he will have to send someone else."

Frigga made a soft sound of anger, her hands curled protectively over Loki's forehead.

Odin indicated the spear. "It will take days before I would even consider the removal of Gungnir from Loki. There is too much risk that the current damage to his body could become permanent. Thor, go to Heimdall. Tell him to turn his gaze towards Earth with frequent vigilance. If Thanos attempts invasion before the Bifrost is complete, then we will act."

"And what happens to Loki in that case?" Rogers asked.

Odin turned a solemn eye on him. "My life force will be drained far beyond the ability for such delicate and aggressive healing."

"Then let's hope that doesn't happen," Rogers said, clearly conflicted.

"Indeed."

\----------

Gamora wasn't put in a cell. Instead, she was given her own quarters in which to stay. The door was not locked, and there were guards outside. Ostensibly they were there to be used at her request, but she knew that the Asgardians could not have trusted her so completely.

She kept herself inside the room, not wanting to draw too much attention, especially from the crown prince. She thought about leaving almost every hour.

She didn't.

Steve Rogers visited her often, in between his inquiries of Loki's state. He told her that there was always at least one member of the royal family present in the Healing Halls, and though he had not woken, Loki's hands had started to look better already.

She'd never before lived in a room so quiet, or rested on a bed so soft. Thanos had taught her and Nebula from a young age how to endure discomfort and pain in preparation for their training. There had been other beds she'd tried, out on missions away from Sanctuary, but none had been so luxurious. 

But she couldn't sleep. So that meant that she was entirely awake during the second night, when there was a series of loud clangs outside her room.

She immediately rose, extending her blade as she approached the door. Familiar voices spoke urgently outside, and she pressed it open.

The guards at her door were on the ground, unconscious. Steve Rogers was standing next to them with his hands held out, steadying Loki - who still looked two seconds away from death, his legs barely able to take his weight. But his eyes were alert.

Gamora felt a spear of panic. "What are you doing? You need to be in bed!"

Loki ignored her. He pulled back from Rogers, stumbling without support before he forced himself straight. "We must leave now." 

Rogers sharply stepped into his path and grabbed him by the arm to stop him from moving. "Odin said you needed at least a few days before your injuries would heal."

Loki pulled free again, his voice dismissive. "Which is why he will not expect me gone so soon. We need to return to the ship."

"Even if it's unguarded, we couldn't fly to Earth," Gamora said, wondering if Loki had finally lost his mind. 

"There are other paths," Loki said. "But we need to be quick - even Thor will not be fooled forever by the illusion I left for him."

"Slow down," Rogers said. "They're helping us. We don't need to run."

Loki breathed through bared teeth, his agitation rising at the delay. "Odin's magic is twisting around my own. If it is allowed to continue, he will have a greater hold on me than the Titan ever managed."

Gamora came closer, intending on intercepting Loki if he made to wrench free from Rogers again. "Don't be stupid. He's doing it to save you."

Loki snarled. "I would rather _die!_ " His voice echoed around them, through the air and down the halls, lengthening the emotion of his words even while he gasped for breath. 

A soft but firm voice came from a distance. "Is this then the choice you would make?"

Gamora turned. Frigga stood at the end of the hallway.

Loki blanched at the sight of her, no longer fighting Rogers but leaning further into his grip.

"Your father spoke to me of what happened the day you fell," Frigga said. "I did not know then the grief and fury that must have dwelled in your heart. And now I see that such feelings must remain." She began to approach, slowly, until Gamora could see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "We are your family, Loki. We only want to welcome you home."

Loki hissed, refusing to be swayed. "And I suppose if Odin's magic should intertwine and pollute my own and render me a more easily controlled pawn for his schemes, that is just a convenient accident."

"Not just your father's," she said, and raised a single hand. A line of light spread from Loki's chest to her fingers. "I am here because the illusion you crafted for Thor came in part from me. Your body has broken, Loki, far beyond possible aid from Eir or any healer that we know. If you leave instead of accepting our help, it may remain so for eternity."

Loki, who had been staring agape, pulled away in a jerky movement, breaking the line and the hands on his arms in a single action.

He spoke low and hard. "I would have killed your son. I _did_."

Frigga's eyes flashed. " _You_ are as much my son as Thor. And he seeks nothing more than to mend the fractures between you. Would you not give him the chance?"

Loki stiffened, his back still to the queen. "If Steve Rogers and the Daughter of Thanos had not pulled me from the Titan's grasp, I would have willingly served as his instrument. I would have seen all of the Nine _burn,_ and rejoiced in their destruction."

Frigga moved closer, her hands clasped. "And what is your wish now?"

Loki pulled his fingers inward, but they were still too damaged to make a fist. "I will not trade one collar for another."

"Oh, Loki." She raised her hand, pulling a hanging crystal from her ear. She held it between her palms, suffusing it with warm light. Then she held it towards him.

Loki finally turned to her and glanced down, confusion cutting at the rage he was trying to use to uphold his stance. "What is that?"

Frigga smiled through her grief. "At least allow me this - a chance to know that you are alive as you seek out your new path."

Loki stared at the item long and hard. Reluctantly, he reached for it, carefully cupping it when it was placed into his hand. The Queen of Asgard pulled in for a hug, and Loki stood stiff in her grasp, but he did not pull away. She whispered something into his ear, too soft for Gamora to hear.

When she pulled back, Loki's expression was cold, but there was a sheen in his eyes. He turned away from her, not looking at either Gamora or Rogers.

"Let us _go,_ " he snapped, and began to walk on hurried, limping steps.

\----------

Loki still couldn't fly the ship - his hands were no longer as swollen or blotched with blood, but neither did he have much mobility. He all but collapsed into the seat beside hers, and hissed out impatient commands for her to fly them out of the city.

She was crossing over a snow-capped peak miles from the palace when Loki pointed out the path they needed to take to get them off Asgard.

It was a hole in the ground.

Gamora, who had been struggling to keep her anger down at Loki's less than friendly tone as he had given her directions, finally broke. "Are you kidding? That hole is nowhere near big enough to fit this entire ship."

Rogers came forward with his hands braced over the backs of their seats, his expression less than thrilled when he saw their heading. "That's where we need to go?" 

"We do not need the ship to remain flightworthy," Loki insisted, "only to carry us down through the pathways to Earth."

Gamora's voice rose in incredulity. "As it explodes around us!"

"Combustion is stifled in Yggdrasil's branches," Loki said, as if any of that made any sense.

"What are our chances of making it through alive?" Steve Rogers asked.

Loki shrugged. "It will depend purely on her ability to quickly and competently respond to my guidance."

Gamora gaped. "You're crazy. You're both crazy. Loki could be trying to _kill_ himself and us."

"That is entirely a possibility," Loki said. He directed a glance downwards, just for an instant, to the hand that awkwardly clasped over the crystal that his mother had given him. 

Gamora inhaled deeply, that familiar guilt clogging her throat. "Buckle him in," she ordered Rogers. "Then take a seat on the left side of the ship." She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Keep the craft straight and steady into the entry point," Loki said.

"Obviously," Gamora griped. "I'm not the one here with a death wish."

Loki smirked. "Or you are the only one who refuses to acknowledge it."

She didn't answer him, focusing instead on flying. Asgard's sky was blue and bright as she pulled them upwards, before turning the Chitauri ship around and flying in a nosedive towards the hole in the ground.

Loki made a noise - and she was going to stab him through his throat if he spoke even one word of negative judgment of her flying skill. "Now increase the speed."

She tried to breathe steadily, to not shut her eyes as the ground raced up to meet them.

The jerk as an entire wing was ripped from their ship brought the safety restraints into her with bruising strength. There was a blast of heat that quickly faded, and screaming metal as the outer layers of the ship were destroyed by clawing rock.

She had no idea how they weren't already dead. 

Loki sounded astonishingly composed. "On my word, alter course sharply to the right."

Her heart pounded. The path was getting narrower around them, the ship would stall - they were going to get _trapped_ beneath a mountain.

"Now!"

She pushed the controls as the path suddenly opened around them, and then something rippled around their craft and her eyes were hit with blazing sunlight and a dry and dead field that was crushed beneath the ship's weight as it skidded wildly forward. She struggled to slow momentum.

Finally, they came to a stop. She could smell burnt metal, and dirt, and fresh air. A large group of four-legged creatures were bounding off in terror from their crash site, through a wall of trees.

Steve Rogers quickly unbuckled himself, then moved over to help Loki from his seat. "Looks like our supplies are mostly intact," he said, staring out of their window. "Where are we?"

"Earth," Loki answered, all but hanging off of the human's shoulder.

Gamora rolled her eyes. She unbuckled her belt and followed them out of the ship. The ground was covered in stalks of dried, dead plants. She could hear water flowing somewhere nearby, and the squawking of an agitated-sounding flying creature came from above.

They left Loki braced against the side of the ship, and grabbed their supplies. Then they set off on foot.

\----------

The sun was bright and warm, but there was an abundance of trees and a cool breeze that tempered the discomfort. She kept half an ear on Loki's uneven steps as he followed behind them, having refused Rogers when he offered assistance.

Eventually, they found a small building on a paved path, labeled a kiosk - unmanned, but with papers posted all over the outside of the windows. Rogers stood beside it and stared for a long while at them.

Loki had come to a wobbly stop next to Gamora, panting raggedly. 

"Loki was right," Rogers finally said, sounding like the air had been punched from his chest. He pulled a paper from the glass, with large block letters over the top that said PARK NEWSLETTER SPRING 2012. "I really was out for seventy years."

Gamora sighed. "We should keep moving," she said, unwilling to mention that the urge was because she had the feeling that if they didn't find their end location soon, Loki was going to faceplant into the dirt.

"There is machinery working in the distance," Loki said. He gestured with a gnarled hand. "In that direction."

Rogers set the paper back in its place with care. He nodded. "Let's go."

They did not have much longer to walk. They reached a large section of paved ground with metal vehicles situated between white lines on the ground. Some of them had humans milling about outside, but many of them were so engaged in their own social activities that they did not notice her. Those that did stared openly, but did not confront her on her looks or her gear.

Rogers went to speak with some of them. Gamora found another small kiosk building and leaned against it, both to keep herself out of sight and to draw Loki to a spot where he could brace himself. He still held his mother's crystal in his hand.

"They would have protected you," Gamora said. "The other Asgardians who call themselves your family."

"Protection from everyone but themselves." He met her eyes in anger. "Just as _your_ family offered me. At least, when they could speak over my screams."

She bristled, her hand twitching beside her weapon. 

He did not miss the movement - he smiled, pulling at the scars that remained unhealed on his cheeks. "Did you think a few days of help would be enough to forgive your efforts to temper me? That I would forget being made to crawl and _grovel for forgiveness_ , for a few moments of peace from your cruelty?"

When he stepped towards her, she pulled free a knife and pressed it to his throat. He didn't quite manage to control the resulting flinch, and then looked all the angrier for it.

Gamora let her rage overtake the guilt. There was no point for excuses, and she was just as willing as Loki to make sure there was to be no misunderstanding between them. "Touch me, and I will kill you here."

Loki raised his chin. "And risk disappointing our companion? I have seen the way you gaze at him, like a pup that begs for scraps."

"Only because you are just as guilty of it." She pulled her knife away. "You would not bow to Thanos - you would not even stay with your own _family,_ but you choose this human to follow."

Loki looked like he wanted to say more, but his eyes flicked up and then he schooled his expression. 

Rogers was walking back towards them. 

"There's a town a few miles away," he said, holding a large map spread out between his hands. "Seems as good a place to start as any."

He hadn't noticed their argument. She looked away, grudgingly embarrassed and all too aware of Loki's scrutiny.

Rogers looked up at Loki. "Are you going to be able to make it that far?"

"Lead the way, Captain Rogers," Loki said, voice dripping with casual ease, no hint of the anger he'd shown her.

Rogers nodded and moved ahead. Gamora glanced at Loki; he looked back, as if daring her to speak.

They both stifled their angry words.

Then they followed Steve Rogers, to the place where the three of them would start.


End file.
